


Starry Night

by Tronnie



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Multi, Orgy, PWP, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2623511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tronnie/pseuds/Tronnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Okay, so. One thing that was probably skipped over in your new-guy orientation. We have a little tradition here, which was actually born out of necessity. Have you ever wondered how a hundred blokes can live in this small plot for years and not kill each other?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starry Night

There was something odd about how everyone was acting today. It was like an electricity in the air. Thomas had seen half a dozen shared glances between boys, overheard at least three partial conversations that were hushed and excited and, well, not a little embarrassing when he realized what he’d heard. And one strange fight that should have been bad but had quickly lost it’s fire and dissolved into unnecessarily close wrestling. Thomas stood watching, a bit uncomfortable and a lot confused. The boys were dragged apart by a few others who were laughing and saying things like “Save it for the stars, boys!” and “The whole point is so we don’t have to _see_ it!”

It was bizarre. All the boys seemed expectant and excited and they seemed to be...sizing everyone else up. 

Thomas was digging post holes by the tomato trellises and watching Newt. He found himself doing that often, trying to learn as much from the other boy as he could. But today, he was watching Newt because Newt was also acting strangely. The other boy grinned slyly at a boy to his right (Thomas couldn’t remember his name), laughing quietly when he got a smile in return, then whistled loudly at a passing boy named Marcus and grabbed his arm, pulling him in and saying something quietly with another grin. Marcus laughed and shoved him as he walked on his way. 

Thomas shook his head and went back to his work just long enough to realize that he was never going to be able to concentrate until he found out what all this was about. Dropping the post-hole diggers, he made his way over to Newt. 

“Hey Tommy,” Newt grinned at him.

“Hey. Uh. What’s, uh, what’s going on with everyone today?”

“Hmm?” Newt gave him a humorous questioning look that he might have seen if he hadn’t been distracted in that moment: two boys working on building something, huddled much more closely than he would have thought was necessary for a project that seemed abandoned anyway. He squinted at them in confusion. Maybe they were a couple. Thomas hand’t been there long enough to notice those things, but it wouldn’t surprise him; surely there were _some_ gay guys amongst them. Or at least guys who have improvised for lack of girls. But it was just, like... _everyone_ was acting this way today.

“It’s just...everyone seems...weird today. Do you see it?” Thomas turned back to Newt just in time to catch a snicker.

“Ah Tommy,” Newt slung an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s take a break.”

He led him under a big oak and sat down, taking a swig of water. He swallowed and sighed contentedly. “Okay, so. One thing that was probably skipped over in your new-guy orientation. We have a little tradition here, which was actually born out of necessity. Have you ever wondered how a hundred blokes can live in this small plot for years and not kill each other?”

“Uh, well, I guess.”

“See the thing is, it’s about releasing tension. Every month, on the new moon, when it’s darkest at night—”

“What is this, a ghost story?”

Newt glared at him. “No, shuck face. Just listen. This is already supposed to be need-to-know basis only,” he mumbled. “As I was saying, blokes have... _needs_ , yeah? Years stuck in a small glade with no outlet—no girls or nothin’—and tensions tend to run high. We’d have had way more deaths by now if it weren’t for this. It also helps with bonding, obviously,” he added with a shrug. “You know, wanking can only help so much.”

Newt looked torn between embarrassment and laughter, but Thomas was staring like a fish and was pretty sure he was doing enough blushing for the both of them. 

He finally found his voice, kind enough as Newt was to just sit there in silence while he awkwardly took that in. “What...are you saying exactly?”

“What I’m saying is, tonight is what we Gladers lovingly refer to as Starry Night. It’s that night once a month when there’s no moon and it’s really pitch black. We have a tradition where everyone—well, everyone who wants to—participates in the little free-for-all....”

Thomas was just staring, almost afraid to move.

Newt sighed in a rush. “It’s an orgy, Tommy. Plain and simple.”

Thomas was still frozen like a broken toy with a vaguely sick expression, so Newt just plowed on. 

“The guys really look forward to it. That’s why everyone’s acting like this today. But, like I said, it’s pretty hush-hush, even though everyone knows. That’s why we do it in the pitch dark. So you don’t have to see who you’re with and all that. Not everyone’s into blokes, but, y’know, no girls, so....” He was babbling by now, but it gave Thomas a chance to regain his voice.

“Wait, wait,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re telling me what I’m seeing is everyone getting excited about a giant _orgy_ tonight??” The last few words came out in a strangled whisper. “And everyone is just, _okay_ with this? This is just something you _do_? Every month?”

“Pretty much. It keeps things running smoothly around here and everyone has fun.”

Thomas looked around, seeing everything in a new light: the boys huddled together over their building project looked like conspiring lovers, and the boys that had fought earlier, well, Thomas could now recognize what he had seen wasn’t so much wrestling as rutting. He quickly turned back and stared at his shoes, feeling as if he were spying on something private, his face heating up. 

“Oh.”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Newt cleared his throat, “Look, don’t worry. No one’s going to force you to participate. But you are kind of ruining Starry Night day for me, so...I’m gonna get back to work.”

He got up and trotted off, leaving Thomas with way too many questions and not nearly enough time to get them answered. 

For the rest of the day, Thomas felt awkward and just kept his eyes down, focused on his tasks until it was almost sunset. Most of the others were practically dancing with excitement as they ambled off in pairs or groups to the dining hut, where, Thomas realized as he himself got there, the cooks had spent extra time and effort brewing a large barrel of _something_ alcoholic. 

He hadn’t seen much of Newt for the rest of the day, but really hadn’t been looking. He hadn’t been looking for (or at) anybody, really. But Chuck sat beside him as usual, and Thomas took one look at the boy and groaned. This was not what he wanted to deal with, or even think about. The kid was, what, 13? Did he do this Starry Night thing? _Oh my god_. Luckily Chuck didn’t talk about it, and after a few minutes, Thomas caught sight of the Runners coming back into the Glade just as the sun was disappearing over the walls of the maze. 

And there was Newt, appearing out of nowhere to greet Minho and fall into step beside him as they made their way towards the buildings. The rest of the Runners jogged over to join the dinner crowd, but Minho walked slowly with Newt, unconsciously considerate of his leg. They were grinning and talking as they walked close together, and eventually ended up at Thomas’ table. Newt smirked at Thomas as if all their earlier awkwardness had never happened. He sat down next to him while Minho went to grab food. Chuck finished up and left. 

For a few minutes it was just the two of them at the table, but Newt was ignoring him in favor of watching Minho with a kind of—well, Thomas could really only describe it as— _dreamy_ look on his face. Thomas smiled despite himself and rolled his eyes.

“So, you and Minho?”

“What?” Newt turned back to him.

“I can see that look on your face. You two pair up for the—the starry thing tonight, don’t you? C’mon, I’m not blind you know,” he added at Newt’s indignant expression. 

Newt rolled his eyes. “Well since you’re _talking_ about it, yes, usually. We have a...tradition.”

“I thought you said it was dark so that you couldn’t know who you were with.”

“Yeah, sure. For those who want to reassure themselves that way. For a lot of us, we already have partners in mind. A bit of loyalty.”

Thomas snorted. “Loyalty? Looks more like _love_.” He took another drink of his...beer, let’s just call it. It actually wasn’t bad. 

Minho came back then and put down the two plates of food. “Who loves what now?”

Thomas didn’t know Minho that well yet, but he was really starting to feel the effects of that damn drink. “Newt. He lo—” 

“ _Thomas_ was just saying how he’d _love_ to join in the festivities tonight, but that he’s a shy little babe even though he’s so horny he can barely sit still anymore. And that—”

“I did not!”

Minho snorted. “Yeah sure, right. You don’t have to leave, Greenie, um, Thomas. That’s just Newt trying to hide his feelings.” He ruffled Newt hair roughly, joking, but then caressed it smooth again in a moment of tenderness that almost made Thomas blush.

“Really though, you should probably figure out what you want to do soon, and if you don’t want to participate, go easy on that drink. It’ll help you make some _bad_ choices.”

“That’s what it’s here for!” Newt crowed, swallowing a mouthful of his own beer.

Thomas cupped his hands around his drink and looked down at it thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I mean, do I want to get felt up in the dark by one of these strange kids? No. And I don’t know anyone well enough to pair up.”

Minho and Newt shared a look. Newt said, “There’s always us, mate. We’re not exclusive; sometimes we have an extra or two.” He winked.

“Who, Ably?” Thomas said, dubious.

“Nah. Alby,” Newt ripped a hunk of bread and continued on, “believe it or not, _Gally_.” He whispered to Thomas dramatically. “But don’t let on. They’ll deny everything!”

“Oh my God,” Thomas said. Ably and Gally together never would have crossed his mind. And he would probably have been perfectly happy about that.

Minho looked up from his food and sighed. “Alright gossip girls. It’s supposed to be don’t-ask-don’t-tell, remember?”

“Oh come on!” Newt reached up to plant a wet kiss on Minho’s cheek. “Everyone’s talking by now. Sun’s down anyway. The night’s officially begun!”

As the fires were doused and all the lights extinguished, Thomas marveled at the darkness. It was truly pitch black. But as he blundered his way with the crowd to the open glade, he glanced up to see the most stars he had ever seen in his life. It seemed the festival was aptly named.

Newt had grabbed his hand so that he wouldn’t get lost in the mass of black figures, and following Minho, led him out to the high, soft grass in the center, where everyone was bedding down. He could hear laughter and catcalls and murmuring. And, Thomas blushed, _other sounds_. He ducked down and tried desperately to avoid any eye contact, even though it was impossible to see who any one was. 

Newt touched his neck, squeezing a bit. “Tommy, _relax_.”

“I-o-okay, sure.”

Newt chuckled. “You’re wound pretty tight.”

Thomas nodded and turned quickly when someone bumped into him. Two boys tumbled together right behind him and he could hear the wet sounds of kissing. When he turned back, Newt and Minho were also kissing, and he suddenly didn’t know at all what to do.

“Thomas,” Minho’s voice caught his attention, but it was directed at Newt. Newt took the hint and turned his attention to Thomas. “Do you want to play, Tommy?”

Surprised, Thomas realized he did. He nodded, but then remembered no one could see his face. He made a nervous sound which he hoped sounded like a ‘yes’.

“So, um,” he coughed, “How does this work? Do you, um. Are you gonna...fuck Minho?”

Newt snickered. “Oh—No. The Runners don’t get fucked. Because, y’know, they have to be able to _run_ tomorrow.” He dissolved into full blown laughter.

Minho smacked him. “Ow—hey! Well, it’s true. You made that rule for all your boys!” Thomas almost didn’t hear him add, “Makes me glad I’m not a Runner anymore.”

“You’re freaking out the Greenie. Just come here.” Minho pulled Newt back towards him and kissed him, laying him down slowly. He broke away just long enough to quietly say, “Thomas, just watch until you want to join. Then join. Do whatever you want to.”

Thomas nodded again, unable to talk. The other two didn’t see him nod, but didn’t care anyway. They were kissing and moving on the ground in front of him, where he knelt on the grass. Thomas could just barely make out the shapes of them, because they were so close to him. 

All around him, Thomas could hear similar noises: moaning, rustling, grunting, sighing, and the wet sounds of mouths and skin. His first reaction was to be horribly embarrassed, but it slowly changed. He realized that, since no one could see him—could see that he was watching them, that he was interested—it was as if they weren’t really there, like television. When the sounds were no longer connected to the people he saw every day, he was able to react.

Something fell against his knee and he startled. It was a piece of clothing. It seemed Newt and Minho were at least some degree of naked, and Newt was moaning softly, muffled by Minho’s mouth as the larger boy lay on top of him. Thomas swallowed hard, and it was like he’d swallowed burning water which dropped straight into his stomach. 

He palmed himself quickly. _Fuck_ , he thought. At first he thought he’d said it out loud, but the word was being echoed now all over the Glade in varying degrees of intensity by other boys. He moaned.

He felt a hand slide up his thigh and realized Newt and Minho had separated and Newt was crawling up towards him. He wrapped his other hand around the back of Thomas’ head and murmured against his lips.

“Does that mean you’re ready?” Thomas could feel his smirk.

He was though. For the first time that night, he took the initiative and leaned forward to kiss Newt. The other boy leaned into him and Thomas felt the warmth of his body pressed all along his own. Newt was moving fast, pushing his tongue into Thomas’ mouth, and Thomas let him, moaning open. 

He felt someone move behind him and Minho was tugging his shirt off over his head. He shuddered a bit at the chilly night air against his naked torso, but Newt’s skin was against his front and Minho came closer to his back, and he soon forgot all about it.

Newt began groping at his crotch, stroking him through his pants, and Minho was mouthing lazily at his neck, almost as if to distract him.

“It’d be easier if you took them off,” Minho said, and Thomas realized he was the only one of them with any clothes on still. 

“Yeah...” He struggled out of them with Newt’s help, and when he was finished, Minho was gone from behind him. The Runner had moved back over behind Newt and was bent over him, rubbing and kissing his back. Thomas felt a bit disappointed that Minho had gone back to Newt.

Newt grinned at Thomas. “Don’t take it personally. He and I have a thing.”

Indeed Minho didn’t seem to be paying him any more attention; he was slowly and thoroughly loving Newt, taking his time, though it _was_ getting more intense. As Thomas watched, Minho’s hand worked between Newt’s legs to grip his cock and he was rocking against Newt, his body curved to spoon the other boy’s shape.

Someone moaned. Actually, it was both Thomas and Newt simultaneously. Thomas gave up all pretenses and began fisting his cock quickly. Minho’s hand was moving fast now and Newt was panting, then, suddenly, Minho stopped and knelt up. Unbelievably, as Thomas watched, Minho angled himself and pushed into Newt, curling back over the other boy’s back. Everything in their little bubble seemed to stand still for a second: Minho didn’t move a muscle, poised over Newt. Newt gritted his teeth and quivered. And Thomas was frozen, watching, as if moving would break the spell. His cock throbbed. 

He could be perfectly happy all night to just watch what Minho was doing, but, even luckier for him, Newt was able to multitask. Minho began a slow rhythm as soon as Newt was able to relax, and once things were comfortable on that end, Newt turned to Thomas. 

Newt slapped away his hand and took Thomas’ cock in his own hands. Thomas didn’t know how the other boy could even _think_ , let alone pay him any attention. 

“Like that, eh, Tommy?” Newt nodded his head behind him towards Minho. “C’mere closer. Yeah. Right in front of me, here. That’a boy.”

Thomas knelt in front of Newt, as he’d been told, and the position gave him an excellent view of what Minho was doing. They were about level, kneeling with Newt between them. 

Something wet and hot and _amazing_ snapped him back to the present. Looking down, he saw Newt drawing his cock into his mouth and _fuck_ , it was all he could do to keep his eyes open and focused. He didn’t want to miss anything. 

By now, Thomas couldn’t decide which was hotter: the sight of Minho slamming into Newt, or Newt’s mouth engulfing his own cock with every push from Minho. Either way, one more moan from Newt sending vibrations through his cock was going to be the end of him.

Newt released him long enough to gasp, “Ah, fuck Min—!” before he was arching and coming. Watching this was too much for Thomas, who quickly followed, panting and shaking.

Minho was thrusting erratically and Thomas thought he must be close too. The Runner leaned over to Newt’s ear and murmured something which Thomas barely caught. It sounded like “I love you”. Then Minho froze and his body racked with shudders, Newt groaned, and they both collapsed to the ground.

As Thomas caught his breath, he could hear the sounds of dozens of similar orgasms, and somehow it no longer felt embarrassing or voyeuristic. He was a part of it, of all of it. All these boys, bonding like this, and they seemed as though they were as numerous as the stars above them. He laid down beside Newt and Minho put an arm around them both, and he understood now why they did this bizarre ritual. He felt fulfilled and—well, loved—for the first time since he’d been dropped here in this Maze.


End file.
